Mother

I came home to my mother on a Friday afternoon. The house smelled of lemon and bleach. She’d spent her day off cleaning the house. A pile of various items were sitting on my bed; shoes, books, things I had left around. Things I had left around for her to pick up. She didn’t meet a friend for coffee that day. She didn’t go shopping that day. She didn’t even indulge herself a quiet moment on the lounge with a magazine that day. Ignoring the fact that her hands were cold and stiff from scrubbing, she mustered a smile, “where should we go for afternoon tea”.

Not only did my mother give me life, she gave me everything I needed to succeed. She spent countless hours working and cleaning to make sure I always returned to a clean home and a healthy meal.

Last year I injured my knee and wound up at the emergency room for the first time. I hadn't even hobbled through the doors before I had a call from her deciding the quickest way to get to me (drive for seven hours in the dark or attempt to book a rural flight and somehow make her way home). I still have a scar that reminds me of her determination that only a mother could have. Regardless of how many candles appear on my birthday cake, you best believe if I ever needed her she would come running.

I love you Mum, and until the end of this incredible life you've given me I will always be grateful for you.

Mother's Day, 2017.